Yuletide with the God-Generals
by Alley Cat Sunflower
Summary: During which Legretta has her eye on Van; Arietta remembers her table manners with difficulty; nobody likes Dist; Largo evidently approves of underage drinking; and Asch and Sync almost kill one another… again. Also includes (near) death by broccoli, Van's Famous Pumpkin Pie, and mistletoe shenanigans. T for minor suggestive themes. I do not own Tales of the Abyss or the cover art!


_Written for Viisauden. Happy holidays, everyone!_

* * *

><p>"Bless us, O Lorelei, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty. Bless it to our needs and us to thy service, and may all who hunger be fed. Amen."<p>

Sitting imperiously at the head of the banquet table, Van finished his prayer and everyone straightened up, unclasping their hands and exchanging guarded glances. First Yuletide carols, and now grace! Why Van insisted on such traditions even though they were all working to bring the Score down, no one had any idea, but they all knew better than to say anything about it.

Only when Van slid the platter of glazed ham closer to his plate was it safe for the others to reach for the dishes in front of them as well, and this they did gladly. Arietta didn't much care for mixed vegetables, so she left them alone and instead stared eagerly around the table, getting to her feet to better view the delights in store for her.

"Arietta," snapped Legretta warningly, crossing her arms and giving her a severe look—made even more so by the knife she held as she buttered a dinner roll. Sync looked scornfully over at her as she sank meekly back into her seat, blushing as red as Asch's hair and reluctantly spooning a few small vegetables onto her plate. It was so difficult to follow all the intricacies of these ridiculous human customs…

Asch was the first to finish serving himself, and attempted to pass the candied yams to Van—but the Commandant only looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Clockwise," he said, in a low and somewhat dangerous voice.

The redhead opened his mouth to inform him that they'd always passed the food counterclockwise back in Baticul, and might have added that he knew what was and was not proper due to his noble upbringing, thank you very much—but figured it was probably useless to argue, so settled for shoving the dish at Sync with unnecessary force.

Legretta proffered the dinner rolls to her left hopefully, which Van took with a gracious smile; her heart skipped a beat as she lost herself briefly in those blue, blue eyes. However, she was forced to come back to reality all too soon as Largo prodded her shoulder with a bowl of stuffing. She jumped, startled, and accepted the dish hastily: Asch rolled his eyes as Dist broke into a fit of the giggles.

"Stop that laughing," said Legretta crossly, spooning stuffing onto her plate and sliding the bowl immediately in Van's direction to make up for lost time. Meanwhile, Asch skewered the ham as though angry with it and dragged a couple slices onto his plate.

Sync smirked at Asch's expression. "Now you know what it's like for the rest of us when we have to listen to you talk about Natalia," he snickered, but his breath caught mid-laugh as Asch held his knife backhanded to his throat, meeting his eyes challengingly and daring him to make a move.

That was the _last _time Sync was going to tease him about Natalia. Asch had endured months of underserved taunting in response to comparatively few mentions of the princess—and always when their superiors were present, so he couldn't get away with hypperresonating his tormentor to kingdom come.

Well, Asch had had quite enough of playing by the rules, and Yuletide be damned, he wasn't going to put up with this any longer! "If you don't apologize, I will take your mask off and show Arietta what you really are," he snarled, quietly enough that only Sync could hear him, and was pleased to hear him growl deep in his throat. His stab in the dark had paid off; he had struck a nerve. "So unless you want to watch her kill herself, _you take that back_."

"Boys," interrupted Legretta exasperatedly, shaking her head with a sigh and helping herself to turkey. "It's Yule. Save the drama for _after_ the festival." Her entreaty had absolutely no noticeable effect; Arietta stopped chewing mid-mouthful and stared worriedly at the quarreling duo sitting across from her.

Largo observed that Arietta's eyes were wide with anxiety before deciding to put an end to the fight himself. Van generally seemed unwilling to interfere with their arguments if it didn't directly affect him or his plans, but his strategy of letting them work out their issues on their own had seldom worked before. In fact, a couple years ago, it had had disastrous consequences; unless he was much mistaken, there were still bloodstains on the tablecloth.

Reaching a decision as Asch pressed the knife harder against Sync's neck with another practically inaudible mutter, Largo glowered between the two of them as intimidatingly as he could—which was to say, _very_. "Stand down!" he boomed, and after a small pause, Asch withdrew his cutlery unwillingly with a final glance in Sync's direction, returning to his dinner.

Meanwhile, Sync only winced, rubbing his neck before tugging at his fancy collar resentfully. This whole holiday was technically meaningless; why Van had made them all dress up anyway was beyond him—but at least he had the advantage of not having to wear makeup (like Legretta with her excessive crimson lipstick).

In fact, formal clothes were so stupid and uncomfortable that honestly, Sync would rather they all have had to show up naked. At least then he'd be able to breathe. Except, following that train of thought, his mind accidentally snagged on a nude Arietta and didn't move for quite awhile.

There was a very, very long and stony silence, during which the dishes gradually stopped circulating and all in attendance ate, drank, and were anything but merry. Dist debated saying something, but decided it would probably be dangerous to break the silence when he was so disliked among his peers. Instead, he settled for sipping at his wine and wistfully remembering Yuletides long past—walking briskly along the snowy streets with Jade, Peony, and Nephry at his side.

"So, um," began Arietta timidly, setting down her silverware as she broke the silence. She'd heard of Yuletide before, of course, and observed it every year along with the other God-Generals and the Commandant… but it was so easy for her to mix it up with Float Day, in Gnome Decan—the anniversary of the raising of the Outer Lands. "What's Yule all about, again…?"

"Oh, you poor thing!" exclaimed Dist in his usual melodramatic fashion, having been waiting for his chance to stand in the limelight, and everyone groaned internally—having been hoping that a Yuletide miracle had robbed him of his capability for speech. "This simply won't do! Van, how could you neglect this innocent girl's education to such a _horrific_ degree?!"

Van sighed heavily, bringing a hand up to his forehead in a gesture of exasperation. "Dist," he began. What had possessed him to make this man a God-General, he still wasn't entirely sure. In addition to being utterly obnoxious, Dist clearly wasn't as invested in their cause as the others—and should he turn on them, the consequences would likely be disastrous.

Forcing himself to be optimistic, Van supposed he _was _undeniably intelligent despite his… obtusity. And besides, the scientist provided a welcome scapegoat when tempers were running high.

"But never fear," continued Dist, evidently not requiring a response from his Commandant, and rested a hand delicately over his heart as he addressed the wide-eyed Arietta once more (Largo heaved a sigh and shook his head slowly in suppressed annoyance). "I, the beautiful and elegant Dist the Rose, shall teach you the true meaning of Yuletide!"

"Here we go," muttered Asch, taking a surly and surreptitious sip of Van's wine, which did not go unnoticed by the Commandant—but he forgave him on the premise that no one should have to listen to Dist's monologues completely sober. Perhaps the Oracle Knights could use his flowery speeches as a new torture technique, he mused, stroking his goatee thoughtfully.

"Thanks, Arietta," added Sync sulkily, crossing his arms, and Arietta ducked her head, scowling, as if she had been unjustly scolded. Really, Asch and Sync were two of a kind, observed Legretta with a sigh, exchanging a glance with Van that once again set her pulse racing. No matter how badly the two boys across from her got along, their personalities _were_ remarkably similar at times.

Dist, meanwhile, paid no attention whatsoever to his fellow God-Generals; they were all plainly jealous of his super ultra exquisite grace and beauty. But Arietta, sweet young child that she was, seemed innocent enough… so he may as well indulge her. After all, perhaps someday she would be able to match his loveliness, though of course she would never exceed it. No one ever could.

"Millennia ago," he began with a flourish, almost knocking over Sync's sparkling water, "a terrible war enveloped the world. In an effort to stop the strife, Yulia Jue—who was just your age, my dear," he added, by way of making the story more relevant to his audience, and Arietta blinked in surprise—"read the planet's entire memory."

"So it's basically the anniversary of when the Score was first read," clarified Asch shortly (to everyone's silent relief), cutting into the story quite as readily as he would have cut Sync's throat.

"We call all twelve days of celebration Yuletide, named after Yulia Jue," added Legretta, raising her voice to speak over Dist's shrieked protests, "but the first, most important one—that's today—is just 'Yule'." She sat back with a satisfied sigh, and Arietta nodded in understanding.

She still didn't quite understand why there were so many plants, as her eyes roved around the hall to focus on the tall and heavily decorated conifer in the corner, the garlands of holly and ivy strewn about the room, and the mistletoe hanging in the doorway—but Arietta supposed that was another story, and it probably wasn't important anyway.

But Dist unfortunately saw where her gaze was directed, and positively beamed at her as her attention returned to the table. "Ah, so you're curious about the traditions!" he exclaimed, and the groans in response were slightly less internal now. "You see," he continued, ignoring everyone else's complaints the way they always ignored his, "the war put tremendous strain on the planet, and miasma was emitted from the core, killing everything in its path."

"But evergreen trees weren't affected at all," interrupted Asch once more, and Dist gaped at his second offense, flabbergasted: everyone else assembled hid smiles. "Hence the Yule tree, over there." He pointed to the corner dispassionately; Arietta nodded, looking it up and down thoughtfully. It was even more beautiful than in each year before, to her memory—so many multicolored glass globes sparkling in all those little golden fontech lights.

"I was getting to that part!" screeched Dist, finding his voice at last and slamming his fist on the table indignantly. Arietta jumped, startled, her heart racing; Dist shook his hand, grimacing, as he realized that the table was far sturdier than he. Largo, meanwhile, placed a heavy but reassuring hand on Arietta's shoulder—though his eyes were still focused on the flailing Dist with distaste.

"And holly, ivy, and mistletoe were the first plants in the forest to grow back once Yulia raised the Outer Lands out of reach of the miasma," continued Van calmly—deaf to Dist's complaints that at this rate, he would run out of space in his revenge journal. "Mistletoe in particular grew more quickly than the others. Thus, it became a symbol of procreation, and therefore love."

Asch thought of bygone Yuletides in Natalia's company, and reddened slightly as he remembered the year she chased him all around the castle and finally caught him under the mistletoe. Sync, fortunately, was too invested in Arietta's reaction (one of nonplussed puzzlement) to notice.

"…Is everyone ready for dessert?" asked Legretta matter-of-factly, getting to her feet and glancing around. She was privately a little bit worried about the way her pie had turned out, especially as Van had baked one too, and the Commandant was probably the best cook in the Oracle Knights… but as it turned out, that worry would have to wait a little longer, because there was an objection.

"Sync didn't eat his vegetables," spoke up Arietta, and Sync shot her what was supposed to be a death-glare, but he was of course powerless to remove the mask which covered it. Well, if she was going to be like _that_, maybe he didn't want to catch her under the mistletoe after all!

(Wait, what?)

"Sync, eat your vegetables," commanded Van sternly; Sync, after assessing exactly how serious he was, on a scale of 'Dist in his pajamas' to 'bringing down the Score', determined that the solemnity rating probably fell somewhere around 'playing an ominous song on the organ by moonlight' and decided that he had better cooperate.

Resentfully plucking exactly two florets of broccoli from the bowl—justifying that two was enough to qualify as plural—Sync placed them in his mouth, forced himself to chew and swallow (almost choking in the process), and immediately drank down the last few sips of his sparkling water, grimacing and rubbing his throat with a few weak coughs. Everyone at the table, even Largo, expressed exasperation at Sync's possibly exaggerated disgust.

"That's better," muttered Legretta, starting the journey to the kitchen to retrieve the pies; Van got to his feet and walked with her to the doorway where the mistletoe hung. Perfect; now was her chance! But, as they neared the entrance to the hallway, Van stood politely aside and let Legretta pass first with a murmured "After you", and her heart sank in disappointment.

Asch, meanwhile, seized the opportunity and took another few sips of Van's unattended wine, much to Largo's wordless disapproval—though he made no move to stop his fellow God-General. If he wanted to get tipsy, that was his choice, though he couldn't imagine it would end well in this company.

But hey, at least he and Sync were getting along better now, as Asch let him have a sip or two as well before replacing the goblet where it belonged. There was no way Van wouldn't notice, but what could he do about it, make them give it back?

"You guys are thieves!" exclaimed Arietta, pointing between the two of them in an extremely accusatory way. Asch rolled his eyes, exchanging an annoyed glance with Sync. (Well, he assumed he was exchanging a glance; it was kind of hard to tell with that mask in the way.)

"Treacherous traitors," agreed Dist, draining his glass and slamming it against the table (making Arietta jump again) as he glowered at them. He looked unusually grotesque, his eyes invisible behind his reflective spectacles, but it would be no more reasonable for his comrades to fear him than to fear a cheagle. "Ought to be publicly humiliated."

Sync grinned and leaned his elbow on the table to support his head. "You probably know a lot about that sort of thing, don't you?" he asked, and Arietta and Asch both knew that tone of voice—scornful contempt intertwined with perverse amusement—too well for their tastes. "After all, you publicly humiliate yourself just by existing."

Arietta glanced concernedly up at Largo as the much larger man choked on a sip of his drink, trying not to laugh. "Why you insolent, slandering little _duplicate_!" Dist began retorting furiously, his chair rising into the air so he could look further down at his unperturbed companion—but could not finish the final word as Legretta and Van both breezed in, bearing pastries and whipped cream.

"Dist, settle _down_," sighed Legretta, resisting with difficulty the impulse to smash her cherry pie in his face; Dist, fuming to himself, sank back down to table level, knowing no one would ever take his side even if he were to somehow convince them to hear him out.

Arietta, meanwhile, opened her mouth to say something about the wine, but had no need as Van peered into his goblet and shook his head at Asch and Sync with a sigh. He should have known better than to leave his drink, even with Largo to watch it. "It's Yule, so I'll forgive you this time," he decided authoritatively, "but do it again, and I'll put you in the dungeons for a week." He stared them each down individually. "_In the same cell_."

"Yes, sir," said Asch and Sync together, but both pairs of eyes were trained on the corner of his mouth, which was smeared with lipstick.

There was another long silence, but for Van and Legretta asking after preferences—pumpkin or cherry, what size slice, whipped cream or no. Largo was served first, simply to ensure that he had enough; he received about a quarter of Van's Famous Pumpkin Pie.

Arietta, meanwhile, had several bites of Largo's serving, in addition to a small slice of cherry pie of her own. She also accepted a little bit of whipped cream on the side, which she ate quite daintily with a spoon, but couldn't figure out why everyone smiled whenever they looked over at her. Was she doing it wrong…?

Dist had a small slice each of cherry and pumpkin… but no one could see them under the mountain of whipped cream he piled on top. But the others just didn't know what was good, Dist consoled himself, dissecting the pie like a scientific subject and popping each bite into his mouth with great enjoyment.

Sync had a slice of pumpkin pie with a little bit of whipped cream… and then a little bit more whipped cream… and then a little bit _more_ whipped cream… and then Van cut him off and said he'd eaten three helpings of whipped cream without even touching the pie underneath, and added that he had better have saved room for it if he knew what was good for him.

Asch took a large slice of cherry pie, purposely avoiding Van's specialty in a subtle rebellion against his master. Continuing his passive-aggressive pastry decisions, he also made a point of putting only a little bit of whipped cream on top in response to Sync's lack of self-control… though he couldn't help glancing longingly at the topping canister once he'd finished.

Legretta had a slice each—first hers and then Van's, and was not surprised to find that Van's was in fact better. But no one else seemed to be complaining, so she allowed herself to relax a little… though she couldn't help but be a little disappointed when Van instead had a couple slices of his own pie without even touching hers.

Oh well. Someday, she'd get him to eat her cooking.

Eventually, Dist yawned and stretched; Sync almost plunged his face into the remains of his pie to avoid having his mask dislodged, and glared at Dist—but transferred his scowl to Arietta as she giggled.

"It's almost time for my beauty rest," announced Dist loftily, his chair rising delicately into the air, and everyone gave him a tentative smile. If their thoughts had been visible through some arte, almost all of them would have read something to the effect of _'It's about time'_.

Van nodded, dismissing him with a salute. "Understood."

Dist grinned maniacally, flicking the booster switch; the chair hummed with growing energy. "Happy Yuletide to all, and to all a good night!" he cackled, zooming into the hallway at top speed—knocking down the mistletoe on his way out.

"Finally," muttered Largo, finishing his pie and sitting back in his seat.

There was a pause, during which everyone took in the wonderful, wonderful silence. Van and Legretta sighed contentedly in unison, then smiled at one another warmly, the world disappearing around them. The source of Yuletide may have been in direct opposition to their mission, but as they sat in quiet contemplation of the deliciousness of pie, the gentle Yule spirit softened the ordinarily harsh band of allies and reminded them that they were all human. (Except Dist.)

As he debated having another slice, Asch's thoughts drifted wistfully home to Natalia, but he was quickly swallowed by jealousy as he thought of his… replacement. What if she chased the replica around the castle, just like she did him all those years ago? What if she caught him? He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drive the maddening images from his head.

Sync, after deliberating for a moment, got up and wandered towards the doorway with the intention of attempting to replace the mistletoe on its jutting nail. Dist was such a freak that whatever he did was obviously against the natural order of things, so it seemed only right to undo the damage he had done—however small that might have been.

"I think I should go to bed, too," announced Arietta in a somewhat small voice, glancing around. A second time breaking the silence in one night? She was positively _bold_ compared to her usual self. "W-would that be okay?"

"Yes, Arietta," answered Van, finally breaking eye contact with Legretta and smiling at her reassuringly. "Good night."

"Good night, Van," responded Arietta politely, getting to her feet; Sync jumped into the air, trying to hook the loop of the mistletoe around the nail in the door. "Good night, Legretta," she added, giving a small and shy smile as she remembered to bid farewell to everyone, not just her highest superior. "Good night, Largo. Good night, Asch."

…Yes! Sync replaced the mistletoe just in time and leaned against the doorway, heart pounding in preparation for his big moment… still not entirely sure he wanted to go through with it. But Arietta didn't either wish him a good-night or fulfill the obligation suggested by mistletoe, stalking by haughtily—so he cleared his throat.

Arietta halted a few paces beyond the doorway, glancing over at him. "What do you want?" she asked coldly, but there was something off about her voice, as usual; it always sounded like she was making an effort to keep her distance from him for some reason. Sync decided he might have a chance, if he was very, very careful…

Asch, meanwhile, raised his eyebrows; Largo's eyes were closed and he was slumped in what you might call a food coma, while Van and Legretta were lost in a quiet conversation of their own. Excusing himself, he saluted Van (who glanced over at him and nodded once) and approached the doorway, only to find Sync and Arietta in the midst of yet another of their lovers' quarrels.

"Arietta, listen," Sync was saying with clenched fists, taking a step forward in something of a combat stance; Arietta was bristling as well, and Asch thought with some amusement that at least he'd never had to go through this phase with Natalia. "If you get caught with someone under the mistletoe, you have to kiss them!"

"Why?" asked Arietta warily, hanging back and eyeing the mistletoe suspiciously. "I've never kissed anyone before!"

Sync gave a sound that was something between a growl, a groan, and a sigh. _'And you think I have?'_ was among his possible responses, but instead, he simply responded, "Arietta, just come _over_ here."

He paused, fidgeting slightly, and grimaced as though something was hurting him. "Please?" he asked eventually, through grit teeth, and Arietta's eyes widened at his courtesy, however forced it may have been. It must be a really special occasion!

But Asch only smirked, a vengeful idea popping into his head and dislodging all thoughts of propriety. This would be the perfect opportunity to avenge himself; Sync would either think twice about ever crossing him again, or murder him in cold blood. (Asch was more than willing to take that chance against a mere replica, especially since he was just a scrawny fourteen-year-old.)

He just had to wait for the opportune moment…

It came more quickly than he had anticipated, but he was ready nonetheless. As Arietta stepped cautiously under the doorway to face Sync, Asch stepped swiftly forward to shove him out of the way—he yelped a curse as he stumbled. Before Arietta could do more than gasp in surprise, Asch bent down, grasped her chin to steady her, gave her a swift and emotionless peck on the lips, and went on his merry way without so much as a look back.

"Happy Yuletide, Sync," he laughed as he passed his tormentor, whose mouth was open as he stared disbelievingly after him, not even attempting to shout the obscenities in his mind. Arietta, meanwhile, wiped off her mouth and approached him tentatively. Though she couldn't see his eyes, as usual, his entire body was rigid with anger, and his teeth were grit.

She bit her lip, hating to see him so furious, and tried frantically to think of what she could to to help. "That's it," growled Sync, cracking his knuckles: Arietta thought of a solution and kissed her fingertips. "_That_ was out of line. I'm going to kil—" Arietta held her kiss up to Sync's mouth, and he froze suddenly, his mind going half-pleasantly blank.

"Good night, Sync," she said softly, retracting her hand and beaming up at his clear shock, and thought gleefully that if even a halfway kiss could have that effect on him, then maybe she'd found a new way of winning their many arguments. Helplessly watching her dart away, Sync raised his fingers to his lips as if in a dream.

Well, _that_ was a horrible idea…

Largo bowed his head to pass through the door and rested a hand on Sync's head, startling him. "Get some sleep," he suggested, giving the boy a small smile, and Sync nodded mutely, very much doubting whether that was possible when Arietta was so… _Arietta_.

"How do you think it went?" asked Van, glancing after Largo and wondering whether he ought to be more amused or concerned by Sync and Arietta's predicament. (And also wondering whether Asch's antics were his fault, if only partially, for leaving his wine unattended.)

Legretta blinked, having been more focused on the way Van's mouth moved than what he said. "Hmm?"

"Yule dinner," explained Van patiently, seeing her expression. "It's the only time all year when all six God-Generals and the Commandant sit and eat together." He sighed heavily. "And sometimes I wonder if it's worth it, given that we've never passed a year without at least one death threat." How it was that nobody had actually made good on any of those yet, he had no idea, but he was grateful for their restraint.

Legretta let out a long exhalation. "I don't know," she confessed, crossing her arms. "We're about as dysfunctional a family as you can find." If you could even call them a 'family', she thought, trying not to think of her little brother with limited success.

Van chuckled. "Well, I'd be the father."

It took Legretta a little while to recognize that he was referring to her analogy, and nodded abruptly as she understood. "I'd be the mother," she added hesitantly. Was the implication too strong…? No; it couldn't be. They'd stolen a kiss in the kitchen, after all, so he couldn't be _totally _against the idea.

"Largo would be the grandfather," decided Van, still smiling, and drained the last of his beverage. "Though he seems a little young for that yet." His daughter was only eighteen, after all—not yet of age to marry, let alone bear a grandchild.

Legretta giggled as another thought crossed her mind, and took some time to sober enough to say it aloud, despite Van's clear curiosity. "Dist would be… the uncle nobody likes."

It took a moment before Van broke into the deep, rich laugh she loved so much. (Who was she kidding? She loved everything about the man.) "Or the less-than-sane neighbor," agreed Van, chortling.

"And then we have our—_the _children," sighed Legretta. "Asch, Arietta, and Sync."

Van raised his eyebrows in mock incredulity. "You're telling me that after all those mistletoe… shenanigans," he decided eventually, for lack of a better word, "they'd be _siblings_?"

Legretta laughed. "Perhaps not," she acknowledged, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. "But they certainly act like it most of the time, anyway, from the way they argue. I've never encountered three more disagreeable people."

"I suppose tonight is a night for exceptions," mused Van, rubbing his beard. "Speaking of which, don't go expecting any more kisses just because I indulged you this evening," he added, more sharply, and Legretta straightened up and met his suspicious blue gaze. "A Commandant and a God-General? Unheard of."

"People _don't _have to hear of it," pointed out Legretta wryly, and Van tossed her a look that was somewhere between amused and annoyed. "And I think you enjoyed yourself, whatever you—or the Score—say about it."

Van sighed humorously, shaking his head. "You God-Generals are going to be the death of me," he murmured, half-affectionately, and leaned back in his seat. "First Sync and Arietta, and now _you_."

"Well, maybe you'd better cancel the next Yule dinner after all," shrugged Legretta. "They've gotten steadily stranger over the last several years anyway. I don't know how much longer we'll be able to keep things under control, since Largo isn't very much help." You'd think he would be, what with his rather imposing stature, but he seemed to prefer staying out of everyone else's drama.

"Oh?" asked Van, raising an eyebrow and smiling faintly. "Stranger by the year, eh?"

Legretta sighed. "You've _been _there," she pointed out, exasperated. "I mean, last time there was the food fight"—Van groaned at the memory, having suppressed it all evening—"and this time, Asch was about to slit Sync's throat." She paused, shaking her head. "Next time, Dist will probably announce that he's pregnant, or something…"

And so their speculation continued deep into the night, long after the Oracle Knights had cleared away the dishes. But as each of them doubted very much whether Yulia Jue had seen fit to include such trivial events in the Score, it was eventually agreed that perhaps they had better just have dinner again next year after all, and find out for themselves.


End file.
